Better than a Soap Opera
by Deep Forest Green
Summary: AU where Éponine lives and polygamy is legal in France. After the barricade, Marius marries both Cosette and Éponine. But with PTSD, a new job, a scheming father-in-law and his henchmen, and two beautiful but eccentric wives with troubles of their own, will Marius be able to hold onto his fortune and his sanity? (On hiatus; will be continued if there is enough demand)
1. Prologue

**March 1833**

**Part One: Every Happy Family is Alike**

Marius and Cosette had been happily married for a little over a month. Well, perhaps 'happily' was too strong a word. After all, Cosette had to mourn for her father, and how does one mourn for the entire world, for everything? And Marius still had nightmares about his friends' deaths on the barricade- men he had barely even known besides Courfeyrac, much less considered friends- and no one could explain this to him. He walked around most days in a bit of a trance, a trance of love and also of sadness, and wondered how that one night could have affected him so much. Both of these factors contributed to the little detail that the marriage had not, technically, been consummated.

But that didn't prevent them from being the ideal couple. Oh no. On the outside, they were. They loved each other- or did they? Did they ever doubt it? Wasn't their chastity proof of their love and the enduring strength of their marriage, that they were willing to wait and remain pure until they were ready, that they weren't driven by lust? Wasn't it impossible for a man's eyes to wander so soon, or if not his eyes, his heart? But how could his mind wander to a girl who had come back from the grave?

These days, Marius thought more and more of Éponine, the scraggly urchin who had called him handsome all those months ago. Éponine- he remembered her still. He couldn't love her; had never loved her. He hadn't seen her since the night she had almost laid down her life for him. Her face had been glowing, bathed in the cool, watery light of the gas lamps under a cloud of gun-smoke and powder. She had told him to kiss her forehead, and he had complied. Her wrinkled skin was deathly cold under his lips, and yet she had been beautiful. The moment before, she had smiled at him, and told him she was a little bit in love with him. He had thought she was dead. But she wasn't.

He had only heard about it, not seen it with his own eyes. But apparently the blood loss hadn't been as bad as it seemed. Some medic who had happened to be on the barricade- Joly? Combeferre?- had found her just in time, taken her away and patched up her wound to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. Her recovery had been as miraculous as Marius' own. Apparently when she woke up she had thrown quite a fit, angry that her suicide attempt had been thwarted. For God's sake, she had exclaimed blasphemously, shocking everyone in the room with her uncouth speech, what part of 'I want to die' didn't people understand?

She had been delirious for a long time after that from the medicines, but rumor was that she thought Marius was dead. Of course she did, he realized. How could she have known that despite her plans, Cosette's father was still in Paris, that he had gone to the barricades and risked his life to save him? He had no idea that it was Éponine's own design for hem to die together, in a suicide pact that he had never agreed to. At least, she thought, Marius had died thinking that she selflessly loved him. Yet somehow, she would rather that he be alive and with another woman. She began to regret her decision to drive him to his death. The bullet had missed her heart, and she was still in love with him.

And now things had returned to normal for Éponine. None of this Marius knew, for he had not been back to the Gorbeau House since last June. When she was well enough to walk, her father had come to pick her up and take her back home. This Marius could not have imagined, for after the LeBlanc incident he had not thought Jondrette capable of love or compassion, even towards his own daughters. When she had told him what had happened, Jondrette had been angry- angry at her for trying to take the coward's way out, leaving the rest of the family to fend for themselves even though they had had one less mouth to feed- but even angrier at Marius for allowing his daughter to almost die for him, for never noticing her and marrying that bourgeois girl who was rightfully no more than a bastard and a slave. Not to mention the fact that the ungrateful swine had been responsible for sending them all to the slammer. In the following months, thoughts of revenge consumed him, and he paced aimlessly around the apartment. He couldn't concentrate on his schemes anymore. Meanwhile, the family grew even more impoverished and desperate than in the days when Marius was their neighbor. Thénardier was itching for something- money, anything- to happen.

Another thing Marius did not know was that the bullet was still inside Éponine's body. The medics had not been able to safely remove it. Lead poisoning was a long-term danger, they had told her, and prostitution was no longer an option, but a shorter-term danger was that she would never be able to have children. The ball was lodged too close to her uterus. If it expanded, both she and the baby would die in a bloody hell. But Éponine didn't care. After all, there was only one man whose children she wanted to bear, and he was a lost cause.

She considered another attempt at suicide. But it was impossible this time, because her father was watching her constantly, and he refused to let her slip through his fingers again. Her mother was still in prison, but he told Éponine and Azelma that any day now she might be released. Despite everything, Éponine refused to hurt her mother by taking her own life.

As a gentleman, marrying Éponine Jondrette would be the chivalrous thing to do to help her escape her poverty. After all, she was the only girl who had ever showed affection for him without expecting any in return. It would be repaying his father's debt to Thénardier. And it wasn't as if he didn't like her- she was even attractive in a ratty sort of way. And really, would it kill him and Cosette to bring Éponine into the marriage? Sure, Cosette's father might have objected, but what did that matter now that he was dead? Cosette would always have the initial advantage of being the first wife, loved and pampered, and Éponine would be happy to be with a rich man. It was a win-win situation. Really, what could go wrong?

* * *

**Part Two: A Truth Universally Acknowledged **

"Cosette, she took a bullet for me," said Marius emphatically. "I think I owe this to her. I already neglected your father- I don't want to do that to anyone else now. I was blind, but that night on the barricade opened my eyes."

"You don't owe her anything, Marius," Cosette argued. "It was nine months ago. It's time to move on and stop feeling guilty and sorry for yourself."

Marius shook his head vehemently. "She still loves me," he insisted. "She's not going to get over me any time soon. When you take a bullet for someone- you don't forget that."

"Still," Cosette said hesitantly. "Polygamy just isn't something I'm...comfortable with."

"I'm the husband. It's my decision," Marius said firmly.

"This isn't what I agreed to," Cosette said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I want you all to myself. I know it sounds selfish, but I can't help it. That's how love is. I love you, Marius Pontmercy."

"And I love you, Cosette," Marius told her, kissing her hand. "But some things are more important than love, and sometimes we have to think about them."

* * *

**Part Three: Ships at a Distance **

It is always a strange feeling to step into the house where you used to live. Marius was experiencing this sensation quite acutely when he stepped into the Gorbeau hovel on a dreary March afternoon. Another family now occupied the room where he had stayed for the better part of three years, and he declined the landlord's offer to see it, fearing that they would tamper with his memories of meeting Cosette and being a student, energetic and free. It all seemed so long ago, like another person had lived there and joined a rebellion and fallen in love.

"Monsieur Pontmercy, I am delighted to hear that you, my loyal friend and neighbor, have taken such an interest in my eldest daughter," said Monsieur Jondrette as he welcomed Marius into his apartment. "I would be deeply honored to have a baron such as yourself as a son-in-law."

"Thank you, Monsieur," said Marius, shaking his hand vigorously. "The honor is all mine. After all, you saved my father's life at Waterloo, and for that I am forever indebted to you and your family."

"There is just one problem with your plans," said Jondrette as Marius withdrew his hand. "Perhaps you would consider marrying Azelma instead?"

"Now, why on earth would I do that?" demanded Marius, taken aback. "She is too young and besides, she does not love me. I do not believe we have ever even formally met."

"Ah, yes, but I'm afraid Éponine is already spoken for. My business associate Montparnasse is quite... attached to her, you see."

"She's living in sin with him?" Marius asked, scandalized.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that. And a gentleman like yourself would not dream of disgracing his family name- and the memory of his late father- by marrying a girl with no honor. Azelma, on the other hand, is marriage material. I have done everything in my power to keep her pure and clean...even at the cost of my own well-being."

At this, Marius stifled a dry laugh. He remembered seeing Thénardier ordering Azelma to break a windowpane, the blood streaming from her hand down her wrist. If anything, he got the impression that Éponine was his favored daughter.

"Monsieur, I do not wish to be rude, but my reason for coming here is Éponine. I will have her or I will have neither girl. As for your 'associate'- I know what that means, I'm not as naïve as I was when I first moved here- either you will talk to him and convince him to give up on Éponine, or else we can consider this matter closed."

"Be reasonable, Monsieur! Consider the poor man's heart! You are to have two wives and he is not even allowed one? What injustice! To have his sweetheart stolen from him this way, and by a bourgeois no less!"

"You are lying," Marius said sternly. "Montparnasse cannot possibly love Éponine."

"Oh? And why do you say that?"

"Because I have seen the way he mistreats and abuses her every day. I have seen how she shrinks from him in fear. I have seen how he looks at her as an object, not as a human being."

"Who are you to judge?" Thénardier demanded hotly. "You love Éponine no more than he does."

"Perhaps, but I care for her enough not to beat her, and I can give her the life she deserves. And I know how to keep civility within my own house."

"Then we have a deal, Monsieur." Thénardier shook Marius' hand. "I shall bring your bride to you in the morning. And let me state, once again, how excited I am for our two families to be entering into this alliance."

* * *

**Part Four: It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times **

"Éponine, did you hear the good news? You and the Baron de Pontmercy are to be married!"

Éponine could hardly contain her joy. Had she heard her father correctly? Oh, this was the greatest day of her life, the greatest day that could be imagined! Not only was Marius not dead, but after years of pining and not-so-subtly hinting, he had finally realized and returned her feelings for him. True, it had taken a bullet in the gut to make him come to this epiphany, but was it worth it? Of course! This was the best thing her father had ever done for her, and she forgave him everything that had come before it. Speechless, she began to weep and ran into his arms.

"We have arranged everything," he told her, his bony frame cradling hers. "'Ponine, our days of suffering in this hellhole are over. You, your husband, and your sister-wife Cosette will live happily together for many, many years."

Éponine's face fell. She released herself from her father's embrace. There was always a catch, wasn't there? It wasn't even a marriage of convenience; it was a marriage of 'why not?'. Her father didn't care about her happiness; he just knew that Marius had money and he wanted it for himself. How on earth was she supposed to live with the Lark as if she was some kind of equal? The indignity! Who did that bourgeois-to-a-penny thing think she was?

"This is so exciting," he exclaimed, oblivious to her disappointment. "Just think, my daughter, in a polygamous marriage!"

Éponine winced. No matter her personal feelings about it, polygamous marriages were very desirable from a poor person's point of view. It was practically the only way for a woman to advance her social status. Many domestic servants schemed to be their master's second and third wives, but such an opportunity for a gamine was extremely rare. And it was certainly better than her default arranged marriage to Montparnasse, who had seemed repulsed by her ever since the barricade incident. She knew she was already lucky, to be a girl in a family where girls were desirable when the rest of society said otherwise. Her life had been hard, but at least her mother hadn't given her away on account of her sex.

Meanwhile, Jondrette patted himself on the back for his clever use of reverse psychology. Montparnasse would be easy to take care of, and fortunately, Marius' months of recovery and nuptial bliss had made him no less of a fool. The Gillenormand fortune was, after all, something fit for a Baron and two Baronnes. And Éponine deserved nothing less.

* * *

**AN: Hope you didn't think anyone was too OOC. This Thénardier does genuinely care about both his daughters. He doesn't beat her without reason, and he certainly doesn't take pleasure in beating her. He's not a sadist. And Éponine is a little more Brick-based, so be ready for some craziness. **

**A few of the Amis may turn up alive to make an appearance, depending on what I want/need. Also, BTW, this is not a traditional Marius/Éponine fic. But you've probably already figured that out. **


	2. The Wedding

**April 1833**

**Part One**

In the opinions of everyone involved except Cosette, the wedding could not take place soon enough. Marius felt the same urgency that he had when he had awoken from his lengthy coma and tried to convince his grandfather to let him marry the girl of his dreams.

Meanwhile, Éponine was lost in a world of happy daydreams, her head in the clouds from all the fantasies she was having about Marius and their lives together. She would be able to ignore Cosette easily enough, and even if she couldn't, that was a bridge she would cross when she came to it. For now, she would revel in the frivolity that always came with planning a second wedding for a Baron and Baronne.

Gillenormand was quite conflicted about the wedding, which was odd because he was never conflicted about anything. On the one hand, he was proud of his grandson for entering into the great family tradition of polygamy- after all, he had been a polygamist himself, and his two daughters were born of different wives. One of the reasons for his hatred of Colonel Pontmercy was that the man had refused, on principle, to take a second wife and so left Marius an orphan when he died of brain fever. Marius' seemingly monogamous passion for Cosette had upset Gillenormand when he first learned of it, because he worried that the boy would follow in his father's radical footsteps. Now he thought that perhaps Marius was in fact more conservative and traditional, less romantic and more practical, than he had seemed on that afternoon. Perhaps his readiness to commit had been merely a phase. It would be an immense relief for the man who had done everything in his power to raise a good latter-day monarchist.

Yet, couldn't Marius do better for a second wife than a gamine? Was he honestly supposed to let that revolting creature into his house- revolting no matter how beautiful she was- as a lady, mind you, not as a servant; simply because his grandson declared it to be so? Éponine was hardly concubine material, much less wife, and Gillenormand frankly didn't trust her. But he feared that a refusal to lend his consent would result in Marius' further isolation from him, and he was not about to risk losing his grandson for a third time over something so trivial as a wife.

"Daughter," he asked Mademoiselle Gillenormand brusquely one day when she came upstairs to bring him tea and coffee, "what do you think of our Marius' latest fiancée?"

The prude sniffed as she set down the silver tray on his desk. It was no secret that she was jealous of married women, and bitter that her father's refusal to pay a dowry for her to be someone's second wife had resulted in her becoming an old maid. To add insult to injury, her nephew- the son of her renegade little sister who had been so lucky in love- was about to marry a girl of the streets. It was offensive to the family and to tradition. She did not know why her father even bothered to ask.

"In my humble opinion, dear father," she said delicately, "marriage should not be a matter of one party pitying another, and that is clearly the reason for Marius' decision to marry Éponine."

Gillenormand nodded, thankful for her straightforwardness, a side of herself which she only ever showed to him. "I couldn't agree more." He took a whiff of his tea and made a face. "And Théodule? What does he think?"

"I couldn't say." She sat down across from him and folded her hands across her lap as if to make a napkin of them, although she was neither eating nor drinking. "He hasn't been over to the house since his cousin's engagement to Mademoiselle Fauchelevent. Between you and me, I think he was jealous. I think he had had his eye on that girl."

"It is a tragedy when families are torn apart by such trifling matters," Gillenormand intoned, taking a big slurp. "Personally, I feel that women should be able to share. That is what they are brought up to do."

"You would feel that way, father," said Mademoiselle Gillenormand tensely. "But speaking as a woman, I see it another way. I think Éponine- the Jondrette girl, whatever you want to call her- is a bad influence on him. God only knows what kinds of immoral things she might have done, just to stay alive- and she could easily corrupt Euphrasie as well- "

"Marius is an adult, I will remind you," Gillenormand said pointedly, interrupting her. "He is beyond our control, no matter how much we may wish it to be otherwise. I have made peace with that irreversible fact. Perhaps it is time that you did so as well, as with other irreversible facts of life, and not be selfish about maintaining your honor or reputation. As for my daughter-in-law, I think I can handle her, keep a check on her 'morality', if you will. Her charm lies in her innocence, and she is quite charming indeed." At this, he knitted his fingers together and turned towards her in self-satisfaction.

"We still have the power to grant or withhold funds from them," his daughter said, her brow furrowing at his passive aggression. She knew from experience that whenever he went off on a tangent like this, he was even more implacable than usual and there was no persuading him of anything. He loved his grandson far too much for his own good, she had known that for a long time. But this was the first evidence she had yet seen that he trusted him.

"True, technically still true and always will be true. But he has the inheritance from his father and still stupidly insists on becoming a practicing lawyer. He is already richer than we are, my dear; do not delude yourself. He ultimately has power over us."

* * *

**Part Two **

All parties had to be present at the ceremony, an arrangement with which Cosette was greatly displeased. It was bad enough that she should be forced to share her husband with a gamine who had abused her when they were children, but to be forced to appear in church, before Almighty God, to be united in a holy ceremony with that disgusting creature! It was too much for her to bear. She prayed to her father's soul- _Oh, Papa, I'm spoiled, you are so good to have spoiled me but you never taught me how to share love with another woman_- but her prayers were too incoherent and so God never answered them.

By the night before the wedding, she had resigned herself to the facts. Éponine would be the center of Marius' attention, and everyone's attention, for the next few months. She would be celebrated by all their friends and family. But more than that, once the novelty of the marriage had worn off, she would get only half of Marius' time for the rest of her life. When they had their _voyage à la façon ainglaise_, it would be all about the new girl, Éponine. Marius had had his taste of bourgeois hard-to-get ingénue, and now he wanted to get his feet dirty in something more exotic, dangerous, wild. And what would happen when he bored of her as well? Would his eyes wander again? Would he keep picking scum off the street one by one? How many wives would he accumulate over their lifetimes? She knew that any more than three was legally considered a harem, which was technically illegal; but a man of high enough status could apply to keep up to a dozen concubines.

Marius had vowed that he would never abuse his power to acquire concubines. Despite everything, Cosette still loved and trusted her husband enough to believe him. She was a natural optimist; nothing could make her cynical about their love. But she made her displeasure known to him in subtle, hinted ways, trying to focus only on what lay immediately before them in the near future. Being a married woman, she was quickly learning the art of passive aggression.

"So, sister-wife and matron of honor," Cosette said drily, sliding herself into bed next to Marius. It was Saturday, the night before the wedding was to take place. Normally they had separate beds, and had even been considering separate bedrooms. But since this night was the last night for just the two of them, ever, she wanted to make it special, no matter how much she resented Marius at this particular moment. "Tell me how this is different from being a slave." She didn't mean to say it that way; it just slipped out. She suppressed a gasp, fearing that she had offended him.

"Cosette, it is nothing like slavery," Marius exclaimed, sitting up in bed suddenly with locked elbows and wide eyes. He was quite perturbed by this display of uncharacteristic bitterness, so unlike the girl he thought he had married just two months ago. The lawyer and the husband in him both desperately wanted to prove her wrong on this particular point, but she cut him off abruptly, pressing a hand over his lips.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I had no right to question you." She lowered her gaze in shame. "Forget I said anything. I'll just be quiet from now on."

"You had every right," Marius told her emphatically. "I'm not one of those husbands who thinks that women aren't people, Cosette. You must know that by now. It's _because_ I think Éponine is a person that I want to rescue her from her life of misery. Not bring her into our union, mind you, because you and I have something special that no one else will ever know. But your father would have wanted us to do this. He would have wanted to see us be gracious and generous with our gifts. You were once in a position of desperate poverty, and he rescued you. Now it is our turn to do that for someone else, to bring her to the light."

"All right, Marius," said Cosette, much pacified by this speech. "I believe you." She kissed the tip of his nose gently. "But I want one more night that's just you and me. For real this time." _It may be our last chance. _

"Of course, my darling," Marius agreed. And in his thoughts, he added, _And I do too. _

* * *

**Part Three**

The wedding was on a Sunday, the Lord's day, on a beautiful, cloudless morning. The weather was perfect, the birds were singing, and Éponine's heart felt lighter than air. She danced into the cathedral which seemed to bid her welcome, flying out of the fiacre on the wings of seraphs. Everything was good, life was beautiful, and she would continue to feel the way she was feeling right now for the rest of her life.

Éponine's bridal chamber was in the back room of the church near the confessional, across from Cosette's. There, her father and sister were waiting for her. Her sister ran towards her with outstretched arms, crushing the bouquet of lilies and orchids she was holding between their bodies as they embraced. Azelma was the only bridesmaid, being Éponine's only female friend, and therefore got to be the maid of honor. She was approaching this entire situation far more gregariously than Éponine thought she ever could if their roles were reversed. The naïve girl still had hope for herself, thought that maybe she could now follow in her big sister's footsteps. Well, maybe she could. Or maybe Azelma was just a genuinely better person than Éponine was, and always had been.

Azelma drew a single red rose from a mug resting on the counter and placed it above Éponine's right ear. The thorns had been clipped, and the spine felt smooth and cool against her flushed skin. "So that you'll always remember who you are," said Azelma wistfully. "The rose, no longer in misery, but in full bloom."

Éponine smiled. It was the perfect gift, just the right touch.

After Azelma finally tore herself away from Éponine, their father came between them and held Éponine's shoulder with a little distance, looking into her eyes seriously as a businessman would to his protégé. "I couldn't get your mother out of prison for the wedding," he said discreetly, "but she wrote you this letter." He handed her an envelope.

_My dearest Éponine, _

_I am ever so proud of your match with the Baron de Pontmercy! It's like you are living a romance novel. I wish you many years of happiness with him, and remember to send money to your father and sister every week. Beloved child, I always knew you would be luckier in love than I was. Your father and the entire gang congratulate you-_

There was more, much more, but Éponine merely skimmed the rest, as she could not read well and had not the time to stand there and puzzle out each phrase. Yet she thought it odd that in the whole letter, there was no mention of Cosette, Euphrasie, the Lark, Madame Pontmercy, or any other name by which her mother might know her soon-to-be sister-wife.

She pointed this out to her father. He shrugged and said, "Ah, well, I didn't have the heart to tell her the whole truth. Best keep this between you and me. It'd only upset her."

Éponine nodded in agreement. Her mother would throw a fit if she ever found out that Éponine and Cosette were living together again under the same roof, and that Cosette was not in a subservient position.

Suddenly the bells rang, and Éponine jumped about a foot in the air. "Time to go," said her father. She folded the letter and stuffed it in the bosom of her corset, as was her habit with letters. Then she took her father's arm and let him lead her down the aisle.

Éponine had never been in a real church before. She had seen them from the outside, of course, but she never realized how big and grand they were on the inside. The distorted light streaming in from the stained-glass windows made her feel almost...sacred, blessed. Though she was normally given to being a chatterbox, there was something about this place that made even Éponine walk slowly in solemn reverence. So this was what it felt like, she thought, to be normal, for a bourgeois. Every Sunday was bliss.

Thénardier, meanwhile, was thinking about what a waste of space a cathedral was. True, the good Christian folk were more inclined to be charitable after having spent an hour or two listening to a sermon, but begging was only a small part of Thénardier's operation and he didn't like doing it. A cathedral simply served no practical function, and in his opinion, the plot of land could be put to much better use as a backstreet or an alleyway, somewhere for people to make transactions or hasty getaways. His mind, though quick and clever, was not typically thoughtful and was little given to musing, so he did not linger long on this subject. He was simply too practical.

Besides, he felt a bit naked going it alone. Without the Patron-Minette at his side, he felt as if he were missing a limb. He did not realize how much he needed them all until he lost Claquesous at the barricade. He feared losing Montparnasse as well, since he spoke more and more frequently these days of his encounters with an old man who had urged him to make an honest living, and how the old man might have had a point. Had Thénardier been a slightly decent man, he might have realized that this feeling was friendship and loyalty, and that it was a feeling experienced even among scoundrels and thieves.

The organ played loudly with every step she took, and Éponine had to suppress the instinct to run and hide. At the altar, she made out four figures, but zeroed in on one: Marius Pontmercy, the boy she loved more than anything, soon to be her husband. The priest, Cosette, and Azelma all faded into nothingness before him and the bliss that she was feeling in this moment. He looked at her from his pedestal front and center, and Éponine thought that he had never looked so handsome, his cravat so white and his suit so black, his hair so sculpted and his shoes so polished, his skin so flawless and his eyes so full of concentration on nothing but her, her, her. Éponine thought that she had died and gone to heaven, because nothing on this earth could be so full of happiness. Nothing bad would happen to her as long as Marius was there and cared for her.

When she reached the altar, Azelma took her hand. "You look beautiful," she whispered. Éponine smiled. Azelma looked beautiful too, but she, Éponine, did indeed look stunning. She took a moment to stop and admire her gown. She twirled just a little bit, watching the pure white fabric swish against her legs and catch the heavenly light that streamed in from the windows. This must be what a princess feels like, she thought excitedly.

Thénardier tore her away from her sister and, before she knew it, twirled her around to face Marius and put her hand inside his. The bliss she felt, the utter joy, as her cold hand touched his warm one was practically orgasmic.

"Who gives this bride away?" the preacher asked, and suddenly Éponine realized that he was talking to her father.

"I do," said Thénardier, and for a tiny fraction of a second Éponine thought that her father had just agreed to marry Marius. This thought would have been amusing if it hadn't been so terrifying.

He stepped down from the altar and exchanged one last glance with his daughter before he took his seat in the front row near the aisle. Éponine noticed the way he had grasped Marius' shoulder with a cupped paw and shook it slightly, a deceptively friendly signal indicating that Marius was not to go back on a deal. Éponine was simultaneously relieved that her father hade made precautions for her safety, and worried for the safety of Marius.

When everyone had been seated, the priest began his speech.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join the Baron Marius Pontmercy and his wife Euphrasie with his second bride Éponine Jondrette. We recognize that this day is full of blessings and joy for these three souls and their families. We also recognize the long and painful road leading up to this day, and take a moment to remember the struggles and sufferings which they had to endure for each other, as well as that joyous day when Marius and Euphrasie became one in the sight of God. We reflect on the virtue of a large and loving family and the continuation of the Pontmercy-Gillenormand family line." At this, the grandfather winced. "Now we shall begin the holy ceremony."

The priest turned to Marius first.

"Do you, Marius Pontmercy, take Éponine Jondrette to be your lawful wedded second wife, and in return for these blessings, vow to grant her equal love and affection as the first?"

Marius shared a sad, longing glance with Cosette, then turned to Éponine with a look of deep pity in his eyes. "I do," he said with a heavy voice.

Satisfied with this answer, the priest turned to Cosette.

"Do you, Euphrasie Pontmercy, take Éponine Jondrette to be your sister-wife, and in return for these blessings, vow to share your home and husband graciously with her, for as long as you both shall live?"

Cosette stared at her husband, then took a deep breath and lowered her eyes. "I do," she said in a sorrowful whisper.

Finally the priest turned to Éponine.

"Do you, Éponine Jondrette, take Marius Pontmercy to be your lawful wedded husband, and Euphrasie Pontmercy to be your sister-wife, and in return for these blessings, vow to share your home and husband graciously with her, for as long as you both shall live?"

Éponine couldn't speak. She felt as if her throat were closing. Whether it was from joy or desperation she could no longer tell. She stared at Marius until he barely seemed real. He and Cosette, they were now an item. Take one and get the other for free. Have them both. Get the pair. Marius and Cosette. Choose. Choose now.

It shouldn't have been a hard decision. She had never thought it would be anything but easy. But it was.

_My only love, and my only hate..._ How exactly did that particular romance go? She had never forgotten the plot of a romance saga, but all her mother's teachings fled from her as she stood before the man that she- not Juliet, not Thisbe, not Isolde, but Éponine- loved. _My only love sprung from my only hate, my only hate sprung from my only love... _

"I do."

The priest smiled benevolently and turned to Marius again. "You may now kiss your new bride."

Marius lifted the veil from Éponine's face and kissed her slowly. Her heart nearly stopped, and this time it wasn't from loss of blood. Every rapturous dream from which she had ever awoken was coming true, because in this moment Marius loved her, and nothing, nothing could ever take that memory away from her. Light flooded over their faces as it had when she had slipped into darkness at the barricade, only this time it was broad daylight, that which she had always longed for but had never quite dared to reach out to. The whole world was looking on to her, waiting to applaud her for overcoming tradition and triumphing over all odds to win the man she loved the minute his back was turned. From now on it was a straight path to victory, to capturing Marius' heart, to proving that true love could conquer all and becoming the real-life romantic heroine of all girls everywhere, the counterpoint to every tragedy ever written. They would all point to her, the savior of her people, and say, "It can, indeed, be done".

Their kiss seemed to last forever, so she was quite surprised when Marius drew away and she was brought back into the real world, reminding her that Marius did not love her more than he needed to breathe. When the kiss was over, Cosette leaned over Marius to embrace her new sister-wife. The embrace was soft yet cold, substance without comfort. Éponine felt as if she were embracing a downy pillow. Well, there were certainly worst things to lay against.

* * *

**Part Four**

After the wedding, Marius approached Thénardier. Seeing him again at his wedding brought back an eerie déjà vu. The man looked to him like a monkey masquerading as a person in some circus sideshow, playing with his stopwatch and gold chain. As much as he resented his father's savior right now, Marius knew that tradition demanded he speak with his new bride's father. So he did.

"My father-in-law... my other father-in-law, the one who died," Marius began stiffly, "his last words were to forgive you. So, as much as that pains me, I forgive you in honor of him. Because he was an honorable man. Unlike you."

Thénardier nodded impassively and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Did he say anything else?"

"That's none of your business," Marius said defensively.

"It is indeed my business," Thénardier countered him. "By marrying you, my daughter is also, by extension, marrying your wife and the Fauchelevent family. If there is even the slightest hint of scandal- "

"Who are you to speak of scandal, Thénardier? Beggars cannot be choosers," Marius reminded him sharply. "I ought to have you guillotined for speaking to me in such a way."

Thénardier merely laughed at this and put his arm around Marius' shoulder. Marius drew back angrily. "My son- I always wanted a son- let us be friendly and cordial now that we are familiars. That means no threats of blackmail or execution, nothing like that. Even if they be, indeed, in jest. Now, tell me what it is I wish to know."

"He didn't say anything," Marius said.

"That is a lie," Thénardier responded.

"He said that all his money was earned honestly and legitimately," Marius said, somewhat more defensively than before.

"And what did he do with it for ten years? Hide it in some hole?" Thénardier laughed again, and Marius went pale with fear. "If that story be true, he must not have paid any taxes on it, as a part of concealing his identity. So if it can be proven that you and your wife knew about this transgression and did nothing, that is called fraud, mon ami, and it is a felony. The king can pardon traitors, but not tax cheats."

"You know things about me that I would wish to keep secret, and I know things about you that you wish to keep secret," Marius pointed out. "I'd say we're about even."

"Monsieur le Baron, are you proposing some kind of shady deal of secrecy between us?" Thénardier drew back in mock horror, then chuckled. "Very well, for now. But if you ever lay a finger on Éponine, our deal is broken." He jabbed a crooked, bony finger in Marius' nose to emphasize his point. "Thénardier girls deserve nothing but the best, and the best was better that what Montparnasse or I could give her. I ain't asking you to feel something you don't feel, just be decent to her and never bring up her past. Capiche?"

Marius nodded awkwardly. "I... understand," he said. He noted that Thénardier's speech had slipped into more low-class slang of the streets, rather than the faux air of bourgeois dignity with which he had comported himself for most of the day. A chill ran up his spine as he thought of all the implications that their relationship carried with it.

"I saved your life, Pontmercy," Thénardier reminded him. "As well as your father and your first wife's father. Never forget that. You owe me three favors, and I may call upon you to pay me back at any time. You know what happens if I don't get paid."

Thénardier had just vocalized all of Marius' fears. He was to be a slave to this man for the rest of his life. He should have given him the money to go to America when he had the chance.

* * *

**Part Five**

Meanwhile, Éponine had not taken her eyes off Marius for the entire afternoon. She was worried that he was not looking at her. She kept following him around, trying to catch his eye, but he seemed as blind to her as when he first moved in next door. It was some relief that he was not looking at Cosette either, but perhaps his lack of interest in women on his second wedding day was a sign that his nostrils were, in fact, the only parts of him that were passionate. He avoided their gazes throughout the day, and when the fiacre arrived to bring them from the cathedral to the house for the reception, he managed to spend the entire ride silent and staring dismally out the window, even though he was in the middle of the seat and flanked by both of his wives.

In fact, Marius' physical situation in that moment was quite a good metaphor for the feelings of entrapment and desperation that had haunted him for some time. The conversation with Thénardier still hung over his head, swirling like a darkening cloud in the sky coming over the horizon. While Éponine thought he was brooding over some deep regret- such as marrying a girl who physically repulsed him- Marius was reflecting that he had bitten off way more than he could chew.

Back at the house, Marius and Éponine were invited to have their first dance as a married couple. The orchestra struck up at waltz, but Éponine requested a slow piece instead. No one could know, at least not yet, that fast dancing was dangerous to her because of the bullet in her stomach. So for the rest of the evening, until everyone went off to bed, Éponine cradled Marius slowly in her arms. His bullet had been safely removed.

* * *

**A/N: I don't know anything about polygamous marriage vows. Probably in most cultures the women don't even have to consent, but here they do. ("Voyage à la façon ainglaise" is an early French term for honeymoon, which was known in England as a bridal tour.)  
**

**Oh, and in this universe, Marius never gave Thénardier the money he wanted to leave the country. Just to make that clear. Honorable, but perhaps a poor decision in the long run.**

**Azelma may become important later, or not. What do you guys think? **


	3. The Honeymoon and its Aftermath

**A/N: I said in the description that Marius would get a job. So here he is doing that. It's not all about his personal life with the girls, you know.**

**Also, in this, Thénardier never became le Baron du Thénard. Marius blew his cover at his wedding to Cosette, so they're still Jondrette. I probably should have clarified that in the last chapter. As to why they're not in jail now... yeah. I kinda screwed up.**

**People I haven't forgotten about: Toussaint, Patron-Minette, Azelma, Thénardier**

* * *

**May 1833**

**Part One**

Marius knew that he had to get a job. His convalescence and marriages had been a detour, a distraction, an interruption. He needed something to get him out of the slump he had been in for the past several weeks. He knew that he needed to put himself out there, before he forgot everything he had learned in law school and let himself slip back into the oblivion such as he had experienced in his months of moping over Cosette. Even Gillenormand was now quite obviously pushing him out of the house.

The last bit of law school was surreal. He had not quite completed it, and he still needed to go back and attend the last few months of classes. His fellow students and even professors asked to see his battle scars, and he was a minor celebrity with both the medical and the law students. For different reasons, both groups saw his survival in the aftermath of the barricade as little short of a miracle.

As for Marius, he quietly shunned the medics and his fellow lawyers, thinking that none of them could ever hope to live up to the courage and vision of the men who had died on that horrible June day nearly a year ago. Whenever one of them brought up the Friends of the ABC, Marius would simply hold his head high and say, "The Friends of the ABC were the bravest, brightest, best young men whom I ever had the privilege to know. Good day, gentlemen." and then walk away. In this way, without meaning to, he created an air of mystery around himself. People assumed that he knew the ABC students intimately, even though he had barely seen each of them twice except for Courfeyrac. Still, it made him feel better to think that they had been his friends.

They had been his friends, he insisted to himself. They were everyone's friends. They were the most loyal and dedicated friends anyone could possibly have. They died for him, and for all of their friends. It was odd, Marius thought; a year ago, he would have considered any of these young men successful because they knew exactly what they wanted and kept narrowly focused on that one career goal. But now, having elevated the late Amis of the ABC to a higher, almost transcendent plane of being, he felt caught between these two worlds, the sacred and the banal, the living and the dead. He himself was an unworthy mortal who had been swept up in a war of gods and undeservingly lived to tell the tale. And what a tale it was! He didn't know how to tell it, to share it with the entire world at once, but he knew he couldn't keep it locked inside him forever.

The nightmares continued. If anything, they worsened and became more frequent. Cosette feared for the safety of their future child, the child that, God willing, would soon arrive. Marius' behavior became increasingly erratic, and it was on a warm, muggy night that Cosette noticed his first instance of somnambulance. That is to say, sleepwalking.

It was grimly terrifying, much like the fear her father had experienced a decade ago when he had escaped into the Petit-Picpus in the dead of night and found a nun lying on the floor in self-flagellation. The bedroom was pitch black, and Cosette awoke to find two eerie concentric rings of light floating beside her where Marius' head should be. At first she realized it was just his lamp; she drew in a breath and relaxed, settling back into her pillow. But then she noticed that the lamp was moving, ever so slightly swaying. There was a shadowy form behind it, heading slowly for the ajar door.

"Éponine, wake up," Cosette whispered, nudging her sister-wife reluctantly, shaking her by the arm. "Marius is sleepwalking."

"M- wha?" Éponine moaned tiredly, rolling over and drawing the covers closer to her. "He must be getting some water or going to use the chamber pot. Leave him alone." Her words slurred together drunkenly as she descended back into the arms of Morpheus.

"No," Cosette insisted, struggling to keep her awake, to keep her from going under. "I'm telling you, he doesn't just get up in the middle of the night. Never. Something strange is going on with him, Éponine."

"Fine. You follow him. I'm going back to sleep." Éponine turned away stubbornly and buried her face in her forearms the way that Cosette would do as a young child living with the Thénardiers. Cosette knew that that was the end of their conversation. She shook off her covers and got out of bed to follow Marius.

Marius' eyes were glazed over and stared straight ahead when Cosette caught up to him. He carried the lantern down the hall, seemingly oblivious to her walking by his side. She put her hand on his shoulder, just to see it he would turn around. He didn't.

"Marius, what are you doing?" she asked him gently.

"I'm'a see Courfeyrac," Marius said unintelligibly. "H'told me he's'a meet m'tonight at the cafe. H'said the Amis hadn't given up an' that they'a make another try at it."

"Marius, come back to bed." She didn't have the heart to tell him that his friends were all dead. "Please. I miss you. 'Ponine misses you. We're worried."

"I l'you, Cosette," said Marius, turning ever so slightly to face her. "I gotta d'this. But maybe I can tell Courfeyrac that another night...would b'better."

Cosette decided she would take what she could get for now. Taking his arm, she escorted him back to his room and into bed. She would reason with him in the morning. He wasn't crazy; he knew that his friends weren't coming to see him. For now, keeping him safe beside her was enough. She ruffled his curly black hair and stroked the nape of his neck to where it met the collar of his nightshirt. Then she laid the lamp down on the bedside table again and blew the candle out.

_Well_, she thought sadly, climbing back into bed, _at least it wasn't a nightmare. _

* * *

**Part Two**

In late May they decided to forget about their troubles. On June 5th, coincidentally the anniversary of the barricade, Marius put his studies briefly on hold to take his wives on their promised _voyage_. To tell the truth, Cosette wasn't sure she wanted to go with them. She would just feel like a third wheel while Marius and Éponine had their "bonding experience". But Marius insisted that the trip was important for establishing trust and friendship between sister-wives, and Cosette finally relented. After all, there was nothing she wouldn't do to make him happy.

The trip was brief, as none of them really had any relatives outside of Paris who merited a visit. Éponine wanted to go to Montfermeil, Cosette wanted to visit the convent to see some of the sisters again, but Marius insisted on going to Waterloo. It was mostly for himself, but he thought that it was important as a way of establishing a spiritual connection with his father. For although he had not died there, Marius was sure that the ghost of Georges Pontmercy wandered those Belgian fields, not at rest, but mourning his separation from his son and the defeat of Napoleon and the deaths of the thousands of French soldiers on that tragic day in June 1815, especially those under his command. Marius was almost angry on his father's behalf that the colonel had been denied the honor of dying under Napoleon, the way he had wanted, and instead having to suffer the indignities perpetrated by Gillenormand.

"Girls," Marius said profoundly when the three-day carriage ride was over, "we are walking upon sacred ground. This is where the French empire made its last great stand. Take a good look at it; not twenty years ago, on this very grass, the blood of our fathers, sons and brothers, our patriots, drenched the land until it ran red. The Marseillaise is about the revolution, but it could well have been about- "

Cosette stopped listening. A battlefield was hardly her idea of a romantic getaway. Although her history education had been rather lacking in favor of catechism and more feminine pursuits, she was not terribly interested in learning more about the spot where all of Marius' dreams for France had died even before the barricade. Not because she did not care, but because Papa had always told her that war was the only thing worse than prison, without further explanation; and now she knew how he had known that. No cause could have been so right as to justify the slaughter that had taken place beneath their feet. It did not matter to her that the soldiers had been French and English; Cosette saw them all equally, as fellow human beings.

"Why on earth did he drag us out here?" Cosette complained as soon as they entered their chamber of the hotel in Brussels and Marius was out of earshot. It seemed to her that Brussels was the only decent or interesting place in all of Belgium, while the rest of it was like France but colder. She untied her bonnet impatiently, looking in the mirror. She couldn't wait to go home.

"I think it means he respects us," Éponine said cheerfully, closing the door behind them. "Most men don't think we women are smart enough to understand war. But Marius clearly doesn't want to coddle us or shelter us from the harsh realities of the world. He's letting us in to his innermost thoughts and desires." She drew a breath and approached her sister-wife. "Did you know, Cosette, that my father was at Waterloo? He was a sergeant and he saved Marius' father's life. The man died about ten years later, of brain fever or something, but still. Colonel Pontmercy owed Sergeant Thénardier a life debt, and that's why it's destiny that Marius and I were neighbors! Can you believe it? What a coincidence! It's as if it were meant to be, written in the stars!"

Vaguely, memories started returning to Cosette. The Sergeant of Waterloo Inn. She had never thought about the name while she had lived there, but now she realized that Thénardier had named his inn after his proudest, perhaps his only, accomplishment. She thought back to her father's last words: _The Thénardiers were wicked. We must forgive them_. Well, maybe Thénardier hadn't been as wicked as Papa had thought. After all, he must have risked his own life to save the colonel, and Marius had told her how he had unlocked the gate in the sewer to let her father out when he was trapped in a dead end, saving both her father and the love of her life. With this new information swirling around in her head, Cosette was starting to form, for the first time in her life, a higher opinion of someone than her papa had.

"Maybe you're not as bad as I thought you were, Éponine," Cosette thought aloud. As soon as she said this, she gasped and put a hand over her mouth in shame. She had been subconsciously judging the daughter for the sins of the parents! Of course, Éponine had once been cruel to her as well, but that was so long ago that it was beside the point. "No woman who loves Marius as much as you do could be guilty of any of the sins you've been accused of."

Éponine felt herself get angry- after all, what right did Cosette have to be judging her, that bastard daughter-of-a-whore? But for so long, she had longed for acceptance from the bourgeois, to have a female friend besides her sister, a confidante. She was tearing apart inside, even more so than on the day when she had decided to bring Marius' letter to Cosette. Partly out of genuine gratitude, partly out of a psychological need, and partly to diffuse any suspicion that Cosette might still harbor towards her, she tightly embraced Cosette as a little girl would do. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't resist the bonding anymore. In that moment, she forgot all her father's words and admonitions.

* * *

**Part Three **

Marius had forgotten much about the law. It had not changed while he had been comatose, and this simultaneously relieved and infuriated him. It made things easier for him to pick off where he had left off in his studies, but part of him hated the world for stubbornly going on as before when everything in his life had been turned upside down. He would not have cared if the new leader of France had been Napoleon, Robespierre, Louis XVI, or even the Pope himself; he just hated the stagnancy so much he thought he would scream. Didn't everyone see that he was the center of the world? he put the question to himself in slightly less egoistic terms. Here he was, young, handsome, brilliant, ready to take on the world, and the world had no earth-shaking challenges with which to burden him. He felt like the one-eyed man in the country of the blind, who should rightfully be king. It made him want to punch through a wall. Perhaps the night of June 5th had been the highlight of his entire life.

To supplement his studies at the university, he did get a lot of practice with applied law in his everyday routines. As both an heir and a husband, he was constantly swamped by every type of red tape imaginable. Whenever he sifted through a sheaf of papers, he held his breath, dreading that amongst the forms he would find an indictment from the king, demanding him to appear in court for charges of treason and testify against anyone who aided and abetted him. It was like the military: hours of boredom punctuated by an occasional sensation of pure terror. Truthfully, he did not give his wives much thought at this point. Except that, when he sat exhausted at his desk, his eyes glazing over unable to look at another official document, he pictured Cosette standing in her gown of white damask under a halo of vines entwined over a garden gate, smiling sweetly at him with her sky-blue eyes.

It was Gillenormand who introduced Marius to his associate, a great admirer of Gillenormand's. This fellow was a charming and erudite lawyer in his mid-forties who apparently knew how to flatter an old man. He employed three close friends whom he had known since their university days together in Paris. A rather loquacious chap, Gillenormand noted, but very persuasive. He specialized in corporate, estate and marital law, and his clients were typically very wealthy men. He could disarm the jury immediately with his suave and carefree manner, knowing exactly how to turn a phrase to procure the desired verdict. Not one of those upstart young bucks who dabbled in Bonapartism or republicanism or, God forbid, socialism. No, sir. This man had come from a prominent noble family in the South in the days before the Revolution, he'd lived through the Terror, he remembered the old ways and was committed to preserving them. Gillenormand thought he'd be a good influence on his grandson, after spending so much time with those filthy revolutionaries. After all this time, Marius still didn't have the heart to stand up for his friends. What use would it be, when his grandfather was alive and his friends were all gone?

It was in August that Marius finally conceded to meet with the man. With no small effort, he had finally completed his degree, and felt prepared to step into a legal office as if he belonged there. Which, he told himself, of course he did. He declined to have Gillenormand walk him inside, complaining that it appeared unprofessional, but Gillennormand sent him on a massive guilt trip and finally got him to concede, insisting that showing up with one's reference greatly improved one's credibility. It is an unsustainable relationship when both grandfather and grandson have each other wrapped around his little finger.

Marius dressed up in the finest suit he had worn since the wedding, wanting desperately to make a good first impression. Even though it seemed that he had this one in the bag, he didn't take anything for granted. He spent over a minute examining himself in the mirror, which was a long time for a man like him, who was minimally fashion-conscious and could go out in the streets with only a brief hair-comb and passing glance in the mirror. He made sure that his hair was neat, clean and free of dandruff, his suit without wrinkles, his cravat tight and without stains.

Before he left, he took out a picture of his father from its stand on his bedside table. He closed his eyes, kissed it and whispered lovingly:

"Father, I told Grandpère once that your only mistake was loving too much two ingrates, France and myself. I now see that there is a third ingrate, Thénardier. He took shameless advantage of your kindness, generosity and warm heart. I swear for your sake, I won't let him get the best of me. But the sins of the father should not be paid for by the daughter. I do not think it a dishonor to invite Éponine into my hearth and home alongside Cosette. To the contrary; judging people by their actions and not by their status, that was what you stood for, what Bonaparte stood for. That is why I have made Thénardier my father-in-law, yet remain watchful towards him. I was a fool to trust him, back in the days when we were neighbors. But now I think- I hope- I have made you proud."

With that speech done, Marius smiled with self-satisfaction. He knew that his father had always wanted the opportunities for higher education that he, the son, now had. Perhaps had he been a lawyer and not a soldier- brilliant and brave soldier though he had been, clearly cut out for high field command- he would not have died when he did, and Marius might have gotten to know him as a living man. Marius had realized shortly after Valjean died that to be trusting and forgiving to a fault, to the point of naïveté, was a virtue found only in the most honorable men he had ever known. But it was not a virtue that he would ever aspire to himself. He would succeed where they had failed precisely because he was not like them.

Finally, when he felt ready, he went to the front door to meet his grandfather outside.

Éponine was waiting by the door and placed his top hat lovingly on his head. "You know, Marius, when I told you you were handsome the first time we met, back in the Gorbeau house, I really did mean it," she said.

"I know, Éponine," Marius told her, having her slip on his gloves. "I just wish I had realized sooner what you meant by that."

"You look even more handsome today then you did then," she added. "Do you know why?"

"Um, because I'm not poor anymore?" he guessed wildly.

"Because you're mine now," she whispered to him. "And because you've grown up so much since then, become a real man. And because let's face it, that hat looks absolutely dashing on you."

"Where is my other wife to say goodbye to me and wish me luck on my interview?" Marius asked teasingly.

"I guess she just doesn't love you as much as I do," Éponine replied with an airy laugh. "Do you think she would have taken a bullet for you at the barricade?"

"Éponine, don't let's bring that up right now," said Marius with a serious sigh, picking up his briefcase. "I really do have to go. I can't be late." He kissed her cheek and opened the door all in one swift step that left Éponine wondering what breeze had passed her by.

Marius and Gillenormand arrived at the law firm at around ten o'clock. It was quite an exquisite space. They had to go up a spiral staircase made of marble to enter the floor where all the offices were located. Both men, although robust and healthy, were quite exhausted when they reached the summit, and had to stop to catch their breath.

A secretary escorted them down the main hall. The two sat down, at his request, in two large leather chairs side by side in the waiting room. Gillenormand passed the time by reading the newspaper, fiddling with his spectacles and intermittently emitting a displeased huff from his nose. Marius read the law journal that lay on the table between them, finding particular interest in the cases of property, inheritance, and identity as they concerned legal rights. Finally, the secretary called Marius in.

"Grandfather," said Marius gently, "you can go now."

"Of course," said Gillenormand emotionally, kissing Marius' cheek. "Good luck, my boy."

The lawyer escorted Marius into his office and sat down behind his desk. Marius stood to take the place in. His new boss- potential new boss, he reminded himself- seemed exactly as Gillenormand had described him, only- Marius hadn't expected him to be so... well, ugly. Perhaps his charm was his way of compensating for his baldness, his wrinkled skin, his droopy eye. Marius wondered if any woman could ever, had ever found him attractive. Nevertheless, he sucked up his initial disgust and smiled pleasantly. How shallow he was to judge this man so harshly by his looks! After all, some of the ugliest people were the smartest, the most accomplished, the best at what they did. Look at Napoleon, and Marius' father. They had called Napoleon short and fat, and turned away from his father because of his scar. Yet they had done the most for France of anyone that Marius knew of- at least, before his encounter with the Friends of the ABC.

"Monsieur," said Marius, making a slight formal bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marius Pontmercy. I have the title of Baron by virtue of my late father, who was a colonel in Napoleon's army. Although I am financially secure, I want to work for a living by practicing law. I plan to work in constitutional and international law, and I understand that your name is very well received. I hear you may even have your first case for me, should you choose to take me on."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said his new employer, reaching out his hand. "I am quite optimistic about you as a potential partner. My name is Félix Tholomyès."

* * *

**Part Four **

"Mes chéries, I'm home," Marius announced when the fiacre pulled back up at his door. "And you'll be thrilled to hear that I got the job."

Cosette rushed down the stairs, her dainty feet gracing the steps as she ran so fluidly that Marius thought her a fairy of the brook, and landed in his arms. "Oh, Marius, that's wonderful!" she gushed, cradling herself in his arms. "I feel as if our life together is really beginning at last."

"He wants to know why you weren't there this morning to say goodbye to him," Éponine said roughly, appearing suddenly beside Marius from the drawing room.

"Tell me about your boss," Cosette said to Marius, ignoring her. "Is he as wonderful as Gillenormand makes him out to be?"

"He is a clever fellow, Cosette," Marius told her, "and quite charming. I think you would like him."

"I would love to meet him sometime," Cosette responded. "You could invite him and his wife over for dinner."

"I believe he is a bachelor, but perhaps that could be arranged," Marius replied.

"Ahem," coughed Éponine loudly. "Cosette, you still haven't answered my question."

"What question?" asked Cosette, genuinely confused. She pulled away from Marius to face her sister-wife.

"Where were you this morning when Marius was going off to his job interview? What could you possibly have been doing that was more important?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Cosette in mock apology, facing Éponine with defiance. "I didn't want you two to find out this way, but I happened to be experiencing a bout of morning sickness from carrying Marius' first child."

The room fell silent.

_If it's a boy_, Éponine thought in horror, _he'll get everything_. _Father would never allow that._ Everything came back to her in a rush, and she suddenly remembered that she had a job to do. But she reasoned that she could lie low, sit back and watch for just a little while longer.

* * *

**A/N: Ha-ha! I ended on not one but two cliffhangers! **

**If you read The Chief and the Rose (my Enjonine fic), you know that Cosette being into mystic-type stuff is a big part of my headcanon. That will be incorporated into this story as well, possibly in the next chapter. **


End file.
